


Ardour and Gunfire

by the_lady1823



Category: Original Work
Genre: 20th Century, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 09:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24348745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_lady1823/pseuds/the_lady1823
Kudos: 1





	Ardour and Gunfire

“QUICK, BOYS! CHARGE!”  
  
For miles around, the dismal grey plain stretched its lumpy beaten body, greeting me with wailing harmonics from cacophonous shells. Appoggiaturas of clinking rifles sounded out the beginning of a dissonant sonata. On the horizon, clouds of smoke were rising-  
  
‘Un bel dì, vedremo, levarsi un fil di fumo…’  
  
Neither today, nor yesterday, nor the past year could sable fumes herald a good day. I had absent-mindedly climbed to the top of the trench, but the enemy line and the field disfigured into a cindered background of a Gainsborough portrait where I was the doomed sitter.  
What was ringing amongst the plain?  
  
Boom! Boom! Whirr! Smash!  
  
My legs squelched through the thick mud. James ran beside me- ah, dear James!  
  
Images of verdant blooming meadows, brilliant azure lakes, and the filmy alabaster lawn of my tunic issued before me. We were wading in a clear pond beneath a sky riddled with velvety, icing-sugar clouds. His fingers brushed my bare shoulders as he floated by like a nymph. Underwater, the sun threw dappled rays of light on our faces as we gracefully glided in the pellucid water, with nothing to disturb our liquid duet.  
  
“GO! GO! FORWARD!”  
  
I turned to James. His face was covered with scratches and dirt.  
  
He was sprawled on a scarlet divan in deshabille, sealed letter in his hand. “There is only one thing worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about,” he smirked, indicating the letter. A potent aroma of pomatum, coffee, and nosegay pervaded the air. The fibres of his oxblood silk robe caught the mellow candlelight and reflected its exuberant hues around the rich drapery of the room. I entwined my hands into his, and he gently lifted it to his lips. A set of prominent, curled lashes batted in ardour, and the platinum eyes underneath them softened as they met my gaze. The warmth of his hand pressed against my arm. I sighed plaintively, knowing the disreputable nature of our companionship, that sooner or later we would be torn asunder by some wrathful relative and be forced to live in shame forever. Our tête-à-tête was worthy of being framed in a tableau.  
  
“WATCH OUT!”  
  
In my peripheral vision, bloodied figures were toppling over into filthy, noisome ditches. No! I can’t fall alone! I trampled over barbed wire, contaminated pools, pallid cadavers, and metal remnants, so that I could spend my last breath with my beloved. As I approached him, the once tender hand was now speckled and bruised as it grasped my shivering palm and held it tightly, like nothing could separate us.  
  
Running, running, running…  
  
He could hold me for eternity.  
  
Almost, almost there, the other side…  
  
Perhaps we could survive this, after all.  
  
And we heard the shrill howling of a shell.


End file.
